2. I need to teach my lille stjerne a lesson
KRAMPUS
A few minutes earlier
S he needs me.
She’s alone.
Her fear ices over me through our bond, however weak it is in the mortal realm.
The voices of the board members blur and fade because all I hear is the beating of her heart, her deep prayer, and her silent scream…all for me. Her protector. Her monster. Her husband.
I rise from my seat at the head of the table. And barely give the simpering fools a second’s glance before I turn around and walk toward the door.
“Mr. Krampus? Mr. Krampus, we have not finished yet,” protests the board president, but I open the door. “We are voting on the matter of Krampus World here, with or without you!”
Without me.
I slam the door behind me.
Nothing is more important than min Twyla. Enginn. Nothing.
My spine tightens as I make for the nearest window. With how high the office skyscraper is, the floor-to-ceiling glass gives me an overview of all of Krampus World…and the ski lodge and slopes where I said farewell to min lille stjerne - my little star . The snow squall has turned into a whiteout of a storm. Most skiers and snow-shoers have returned to the lodges, but she’s not among them.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, focusing on our bond, the invisible tether connecting us through the dark magic gifted to us by Hel herself, my mother. In the human world, it is fainter. It will require all my power to find her.
I sink deeper into the bond, as deep as I can possibly go. I smell her fear, her trepidation, her determination. It all bleeds to sheer terror. And adrenaline-induced spirit for a fight. I smell the evergreen trees all around her. And the sharp stench of wolves.
I open my eyes. And channel all my power into one quantum ‘Tween jump. With nothing but min Twyla, like the brightest stjerne lighting up my darkness, I hold onto that bond until I pass through time and space.
I land just beyond the clearing where the wolves surround her, closing in. There she is, my girl, bracing her pole, but she’s far too weak to fight. And she’s swinging her head all around, those golden amber eyes shining in the darkness, looking, searching, waiting…
The wolves snarl.
But I fucking roar!
Seconds is all it takes for my claws and teeth to make quick work of the alphas who dare to attack me. All the others scamper back into the woods, relinquishing the claim of their prey.
She is my prey.
She is my gift.
My Monstrous Mistress of the Solstice.
My Lady of the Winter Star.
Her Amorous Majesty.
With my breath huffing in sharp breaths like angry ghosts, I turn to Twyla, my Queen of Yuletide, and say, “Min kjaere.” My sweetheart. “What am I going to do with you?”
Her chest lurches. And she falls onto the snows, out cold in more ways than one. Sucking wind through my teeth, I lean over and pluck her from the ground. So featherlight. My pale little dream, who came to me like the naughty girl she is.
But not too naughty. She is still too sweet, ruled by her emotions that stem from the deepest love of her heart.
I remove her snowshoes and gather her close to my fur to keep her warm. Since I used most of my power to ‘Tween travel, a small trace is all I have now. Enough to find the nearest shelter but little more.
I heave a deep sigh. Not what I had planned tonight. I was planning a full night in my penthouse at Krampus Palace. But the small employee lodge will have to do. Twyla may be immortal, but she still shivers and bleeds. The last time she was mortally wounded and too much of her energy was drained, a whole week was required for her form to regenerate.
And I have no intentions of min kona - my wife - missing our one-year anniversary. So, I carry her to the little lodge, breaking the lock on the door with ease and sweeping her inside. Dark and musty, it’s small and rarely used. Probably for emergencies. None more pressing than the present.
Faen! Fuck, I growl, my fur prickling in agitation as I pile the wood in the fireplace and set to work on sparking the flames. I loathe these utterly human tasks, so pitiable for the Lord of Yuletide to tend to.
Once the wood catches the flames, I turn to my sweet solstice gipt - gift - and unwrap her, peeling away those sodden, icy clothes until she is a lille naked star glowing in the light of the fire.
She doesn’t need to be naked for my cock to lengthen. But it’s practically a fucking titanium rod prodding my pouch as I curl her into my arms and rub warmth into her limbs. I am dominant by nature. I will always put her needs and wants first. Her body, her heart, her soul are all in my care. It takes a strong and vulnerable woman to submit to her master, her monster.
She wanted the monster from the beginning. She bratted, but it lasted seconds before she submitted to me. So sweet. So longing for attention. Someone who could give her the magic and beauty she deserved.
I will never deserve her. Her light and love saved me, broke my curse, and gave her life in sacrifice.
She is mine. And I am hers.
Her damp curls fall all around my chest, engulfing my senses with French vanilla, cloves, and oranges beneath the snow and evergreens.
“V?kn opp, Twyla,” I urge her in a murmur. Wake up. I trace my thick fingers along her cheek and then her delicate jawline. “Wake up,” I raise my voice, but her eyes remain closed. “Wake up!” I growl and lower my hand to palm her sweet center and stab my fingers in her pretty cunny…down to the knuckles.
“Mmm!” she moans and gasps, lurching, but I hold my other palm against her chest, steadying her hammering heartbeat.
“Jeg er her,” I purr. I’m here. I purr again, letting the sound vibrate into her tender body until she relaxes, sinking her head against my shoulder.
“I knew you’d come,” she sweetly sighs.
“Always.” I lower my mouth to kiss the top of her head. “I smelled your fear, my kjaere. How you love to put yourself in danger and test the limits of my power.”
“Oh, yes, my big Daddy Krampus,” she drawls sarcastically, her inner brat rising. “I went out of my way to get lost in the middle of a snowstorm and hunted by wolves. Just to watch you come roaring in to save me.”
“Frekke drittunge,” I scold her. Cheeky brat.
Oh, she did not just stick out her tongue at me. With a feral snort, I lift her hips, turn her little body over my knee, and rub my palm against one pale, plump cheek of her perfekt rumpa - perfect rump - far too cold to the touch. Little matter. It won’t be for long. My cock rages like a beast in my pouch, but I need to teach my lille stjerne a lesson. And make her glow rosy red for me.
“Krampus?” she lifts her head. “What are you doing?”
My low growl rises from my throat as I grip her hair and thrust her head back down before dragging my finger along the dainty curve of her spine. Her breath quickens to the rhythm of her pulse, and I smirk at the goosebumps growing along her skin. She knows very well what I’m doing. But I still lean over while palming her chilled flesh and say, “I’m bringing some heat back to your extremities.”
“Krampus, that’s not an extremi?—”
I slam my hand down on one cheek, swelling a rosy pink bloom upon her skin. Twyla sucks in a deep inhale, and her bottom twitches and ripples from my action. I love how still she becomes. Flink pike… good girl . She may brat out, mouth off to me when she needs my attention, but she always takes her punishment like the sweet sub she is. Her emotions curl through our bond, igniting my blood to roar with a greedy heat.
Need. Desire. Belonging. Love. And home—“Mmm…I’m home,” she murmurs—the fucking godsdamned beauty of the girl who calls a monster her home. The naughty girl who gave her life to save me and bound herself to the darkness of my demon of Yuletide.
My Christmas star.
My light in the darkness.
My bride.
My wife.
Mine.